Along with everyone else from the plane, Jeanie studied each bag rumbling along the conveyer belt. Her suitcase, black and medium sized, was similar to half of them and she was starting to doubt whether she was remembering it correctly. But, really, nothing could bother her now. She had a problem keeping a grin off her face. Even if the case were lost, it wouldn’t matter, the way she was feeling. Until she remembered the money. When she spotted the case, she didn’t take her eyes off it until it came within reach and she could yank it onto the floor.
She did it. She was through. Now she smiled at everyone. She was in New Zealand. She followed the crowd outside. And breathed in the air. Mindi was right. New Zealand smelled wonderful. Complex scents of flowers and grasses and earth. Even at the airport. She filled her lungs for Mindi. I’m here, Mindi, and I’m breathing in the air just like you wanted me to.
Now what? Somehow she had planned every step of the way to this point yet no further. She spotted a long bench and sank down on it. The afternoon was golden and the air balmy. Then she realized. She didn’t have to be Mindi any more. She could be Beth and Beth didn’t have curly blond hair. She jumped up and headed inside for another transformation in the women’s loo of Auckland Airport, her eyes skinned for anyone official. But it was a busy time and she was just another person at the airport. Once in a stall, she took off the corporate suit and the hot wig and shoved them into her suitcase. She put on the lightweight pale blue jeans, tucked the court shoes away and replaced them with sandals. Brushed and brushed her hair until it was a shiny brown curtain. At the basin, she washed her face until the makeup was gone. Then just a little lipstick. This wasn’t makeup-less Rebecca. Or overly made-up Jeanette or corporate Mindi. This was Jeanie. Oops, Beth.
She made her way outside to the bench again. In the meantime, a man had sat himself at one end, so she sat at the other. Jeanie stretched her jeans-clad legs out in front of her and wriggled her toes in the sunshine. Nice to be wearing jeans. Nice to be free. Nice to be herself. She wanted to shout to the world she was herself again.
Then the question again. Now what? Somehow she was utterly content just watching puffy clouds drift across the sky while she breathed that fragrance-laden air. She noticed an immense white sail gracing the entrance to the airport. White against deep blue. City of Sails, it said. Somehow she felt safe now she was finally on Kiwi soil. Even if by some miracle Pete had survived, he wouldn’t come here. Not by plane. She shoved his memory away and immersed herself in the moment yet again.
The two of them, each at their own end of the bench, sat for ages. Truly Jeanie had no idea what she should be doing. Probably finding a bus stop and getting herself into the city. But this lethargy that had overtaken her once through customs was too much to resist. She knew she would recover by and by. No urgency. She wasn’t hungry and there would be a hotel room somewhere. Funny she hadn’t thought to plan what she would do once here. But it was an idle thought. Maybe because she never truly believed she could pull it off. She couldn’t help smiling.
‘Beautiful day,’ the man said. Jeanie realized she had looked at him when she smiled. Youngish. Probably in his thirties. Thin hair. Pale. Overly dressed for the weather in a heavy fuzzy fleece. She sensed something sensitive about him. Certainly not a threat.
Jeanie nodded. ‘Beautiful. Smells beautiful.’
‘You waiting to be picked up too?’
‘Not really. I suppose I should find someplace to stay. Silly, I’m just enjoying being in New Zealand. I suppose I should see to the practicalities.’
‘I’m staying in a B’n’B on the North Shore. Nice place. But they’re a bit late picking me up. They’ll be coming any moment now, I suppose. You could ask the driver if there are other rooms available when he arrives, if you want. It’s only a small place but you never know.’
‘It’s an idea,’ Jeanie said diffidently.
‘May not suit you,’ the man said quickly as if regretting the suggestion. ‘Not in the city. Just back from a beach in the suburbs. Sort of a holiday place, I guess, but I know the people. Relatives, actually.’
‘If they have a spare,’ Jeanie said. Why not? At least for the night and she could reassess what she wanted to do. Hopefully she would have a better idea in the morning.
‘My name is Fred, by the way. Actually Bartholomew Dunford. Always called Fred.’ He leaned across the empty part of the bench, his hand outstretched.
‘Jeanie,’ she said, shaking his hand. ‘Actually Elizabeth Rhodes is my name, but my family always calls me Jeanie. After my grandmother.’ She was gabbling in reaction to what she had just said. Why on earth did she blurt out ‘Jeanie’? She really must be in a strange space. She needed to get a grip. Oh well, one night. Then she would never see him again.
Fred laughed. ‘We have something in common then, Jeanie-who-is-really-Elizabeth.’
A few minutes later a van drew up with apologies from the driver. ‘Forgot the road works. Sorry, Fred.’
Fred asked if there was room for Jeanie at the B and B. The driver shrugged. ‘Bound to be. We’ll sort it out. Hop in.’
‘How do you get “Fred” from “Bartholomew”?’ Jeanie asked once they were belted in the middle seats and headed down the motorway.
‘Mother wouldn’t have “Bart” and my dad thought it was funny to call me Fred. His sense of humour, but it stuck. Such an ordinary name. Doubly funny because Mother had won the argument that I should be named Bartholomew.’ He turned to Jeanie. ‘But yours was just because your grandmother’s name was Jeanie?’
‘Jean.’ How did she get into this? ‘I guess Melinda Elizabeth is sort of too fancy too, isn’t it. But I don’t know who started the Jeanie bit. Lost in the mists.’
They were travelling over the Mangere Bridge and Fred pointed out how the late sun created golden sparkles over the broad expanse of the Manukau harbour. He proceeded to give her a travelogue all the way to the North Shore. So far, Jeanie was enchanted by her choice of country. Hills everywhere. Roads rarely straight, but up and down and around. Mindi hadn’t told her about the hills. Two harbours. Sea accessible. Pleasant temperature.
They flew down the motorway towards Auckland’s Harbour Bridge where Jeanie had her first view of the city itself. It was bigger than she had imagined, and the motorway seemed to go on forever.
Finally the van slowed and turned. A steep drive took them up to a large wooden house painted pale green set on the hillside overlooking the sea. They climbed out and Jeanie noted Fred was stiff. Moved slowly. Hung onto the van’s door handle for a moment too long.
‘Okay, now come in and meet Auntie Muriel and see if she can put you up.’
Auntie Muriel turned out to be an older woman with iron-grey hair. Efficiency itself.
‘Friend of yours?’ she asked, peering over her glasses.
‘Jeanie is a friend,’ Fred said decisively, surprising Jeanie.
‘Well, she can have the other bedroom in the flat. I was going to put you in there because it’s more spacious, but if you’re friends, you won’t mind sharing the facilities. That suit you?’
Jeanie looked helplessly at Fred. Slightly nodded.
‘Fine,’ he said heartily.
The back of the house was level with the back garden and the front had a full storey extra, starting at the drive with a large curving staircase outside to connect to the main living area upstairs. The flat was downstairs underneath the main part of the house on the drive itself. The rest of the ground floor held garages and all gave out onto a generous concrete apron.
Jeanie looked around as Auntie Muriel fussed with which key to use on the door to the flat, delighted with what she could see. The architecture of the houses was distinctly different from Queensland, Jeanie was pleased to note. She hauled her suitcase through the sliding glass door into the living room of the flat. The day was closing in now and Fred turned the lights on. An open-plan living room continuous with a kitchen-dining room. Bedrooms were off a corridor, as was the bath and separate loo. It looked fine.
‘I’m putting you out,’ she said to Fred once they were alone.
He shrugged. ‘Unless we rub each other the wrong way, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I’m easy.’
‘Just until I know what I’m doing,’ she smiled ruefully. ‘Not long.’
Both bedrooms and the living area faced the view over neighbouring rooftops with a small glimpse of sea to the left. It was getting dark but the sea shone silver in the fading light.
‘You hungry?’
‘Starting to be,’ she said. ‘We have a kitchen here. Any supplies?’
Fred looked in the fridge. ‘Milk, eggs, bread and butter. Each, any or in combination.’ He grinned at her. ‘Can you cook?’
‘Eggs I can do,’ she said. ‘Scrambled? Fried? Poached? Boiled?’
‘If you do a scrambled egg on toast, I shall be forever grateful. You start on that, and I’ll get something from Auntie Muriel. Or rather from Uncle Jim.’ He left through the glass door and climbed the open stairs. Slowly. Jeanie noticed again something wasn’t right about the way he moved. But she gladly delved onto her little cooking exercise. Scrambled eggs. Perfect.
‘Hope white’s okay,’ he said, brandishing a bottle of wine. ‘I thought with eggs....’
‘Fine. Nice to have wine at all. I can’t remember when I last had any.’
‘Heavens, where have you been? Outer Mongolia?’
They dug into the eggs on toast and the wine was cool and refreshing.
‘Do you always have wine with dinner?’ Jeanie asked. Pete didn’t approve except when people were over. He had his expensive brandies and whiskies on display, but that was more to impress than anything else. He had said she couldn’t have alcohol because it interfered with her medications. Her Valium. May have been true. His whisky was for an entirely different purpose.
‘Always. A civilized habit. Especially with the wines of Australia and New Zealand so freely available.’ He helped himself to another glass. ‘New Zealand whites. Best in the world.’
‘And Aussie reds?’ she teased.
‘Best in the world,’ he repeated and winked.
Jeanie woke up disoriented for a moment. Then it all came back. She had done it! She was safely in New Zealand, staying at a B and B with a flatmate called Fred. And best of all, she was Jeanie, in spite of her determination before leaving Australia to be Beth. Still, she should sign everything as Beth, and tell everyone from now on she was Beth Rhodes. She was inordinately pleased with her transformation from the isolated and frightened Rebecca White to Beth Rhodes, returning resident, who had few cares or worries. She felt a surge of confidence. If she could pull this off, what could limit her future?
She opened the blinds to a glorious view of luxuriant greenery, sparkling water and sunshine. Cool air was coming through the little transom above the big window. And she could smell coffee.
Fred had opened all the doors and windows in the main living area.
‘Toast or bread? Butter or butter,’ he said. ‘Coffee or tea or milk?’
‘Coffee and toast,’ Jeanie said. ‘Butter, since you’ve offered.’
Soon they were sitting at a small outside table eating their frugal breakfast.
‘Quite domestic, isn’t it.’ Fred commented. ‘Have you ever been married?’
‘Hasn’t everyone?’ Jeanie retorted.
‘Mmm,’ he said through his toast. ‘At least once. Twice for me.’
‘Once only. Once was enough.’ They grimaced at each other.
‘Is that why you’ve come to New Zealand? To get away from a failed marriage?’ he asked.
‘Sort of. I had left him a while ago. But coming here was to complete the process.’
‘So you’re not on holiday, then?’
‘Nope,’ Jeanie said cheerfully. ‘I made the big bad decision to leave Australia for good. Away from memories and especially away from people.’
‘Not just the husband?’
Jeanie looked across at Fred and swallowed the last of her toast. ‘Not just the husband. From everyone who knew me as his wife.’
‘To what, though?’
‘That’s the big question, isn’t it, Fred?’ Jeanie got up and paced ‘To what? The short answer is to become Jeanie again. To rediscover who I am.’ She stopped and looked down at him. ‘Sounds a bit grand, but it’s the unvarnished truth.’
‘I’ve met lots of people trying to discover themselves. You don’t fit, Jeanie. You seem to be together.’
A wave of affection for this stranger welled up. ‘Thanks, Fred. But it is why I’m here. To draw a line under that part of my life and start afresh.’
‘Lucky you.’ He said it softly. Then busied himself with collecting the dirty dishes to take them into their little kitchen. Jeanie followed him inside.
‘You? Why have you come? Were you on that same plane from the Gold Coast as I was?’
‘Yes, from the Gold Coast. Actually my mother lives a bit north of Brisbane, but I caught this one from the Gold Coast to Auckland.’
‘Your mother?’
‘I had been staying with her. But she’s not well, and it was better I leave. Auntie Muriel stepped into the breech.’
Jeanie thought it slightly odd. After all, Fred was no boy. ‘Breech?’
Fred poured hot water over the dishes. He squirted some detergent into the stream. ‘My mother is old and ill. She wanted me to leave.’ He opened the cupboard under the sink and grabbed a tea towel. ‘Here you are, lazybones. Let’s get this place into shape.’
It was an obvious change of subject. ‘You’ve been here before? Stayed here?’
‘Loads of times. First time I’ve been accorded the flat though. This is great, isn’t it!’
‘Absolutely,’ Jeanie agreed. ‘I do appreciate your allowing me to share last night.’
He waved it away. ‘Let me show you the beach. Do you swim?’
‘Daily, for the past few months. Good exercise.’
‘We’ll have a swim later, then. And also on the to-do list is getting some food and I have to buy a car.’
Jeanie loved his lumping the buying of food and a car in one breath. ‘I’ll offer free advice about the car, if you want. You get to choose the food.’
They decided to go second-hand car shopping first and save their swim for the warmer weather expected in the afternoon. Finding the car yards was a lark. Fred wanted something small, and Jeanie had great fun looking at small and very expensive cars. Fred turned out to be a bargainer. And he loved showing off his skills to Jeanie. In the end, he bought a five-year-old car in an unfashionable mauve colour . He was utterly delighted.
‘I think they gave me such a good deal because of the colour ,’ Fred observed.
‘Undoubtedly,’ Jeanie teased. ‘Anyone with sensibilities about colour would have run a mile.’
‘Climb in, my friend. We have grocery shopping to do.’
‘And after lunch, a swim.’
They bought a good lot of supplies at the supermarket. Loads of fresh salad makings, bread and breakfast supplies, steaks for dinner and several bottles of wine. Again, Jeanie had this domesticity feeling. It gave her a giggle.
After their salad lunch, Fred wanted a lie-down. Jeanie took herself off for a walk down to the beach and back. Freedom. All her old habits of observing, wariness and anxiety had somehow vanished in a puff of magic. She couldn’t keep a grin from her face. The road wound down between suburban houses to a small beach facing, she figured, east or north-east. Not a soul down there. When she paddled her toes, the water seemed cool but swim-able. She sat on the sand in the shade of a large gnarled tree as the day heated up. The shade was cool, which said something about the greater humidity here than where she had been living, and that the temperature was not actually high. Just pleasantly warm. Hot when in the direct sunshine. So far so good. She vaguely wondered how she would like the winters. For the moment, life in New Zealand suited her. She stretched out her legs in the new/old jean-shorts. She experienced a childish delight in seeing her legs in those shorts. She ran the sand through her fingers. Cool. She sighed.
Brisbane was very far away. Her life with Pete even farther. She fingered her right kneecap. The bone was still bumpy under the skin. The doctor had said it was quite difficult to break a kneecap falling down the stairs. But not with a historic cricket bat, she knew, hit with a wannabe’s fervour. It was difficult to remember when she had first thought about the Plan. Probably when recuperating from her broken kneecap. Yes, that was the beginning. When she was on crutches that time. When she brought the maid in, then didn’t want to let her go. Life was calmer with someone else in the house. She shook her head to rid herself of the memory and thought about being here, on this little beach. She felt the kneecap. Never again.
Jeanie found those kind of memories were hard to dislodge. She deliberately thought of Fred and his generosity. He was a likeable character. Easy-going and happy in his own skin. How fortuitous meeting on that bench. Maybe she would ask if she could stay one more night. Even paying half the costs of the tourist flat and her share of the supermarket bills, she should be well within budget.
When she returned puffed from the steep climb back, Fred was still sleeping. Over an hour. Jeanie wondered whether she should awaken him. Instead, she found her book and read in the shade. He didn’t awaken for a further hour.
‘Sorry,’ he said as he rubbed his eyes. ‘Busy morning. Wiped me out.’
‘Ready for a swim?’
‘Yes, okay. But we’ll drive down to the beach, if that’s alright with you.’
‘I think I’ll walk down. Meet you there.’ Strange he didn’t want a walk. Still, it would be hot climbing up that hill again after their swim and she would undoubtedly accept the ride home. She noticed he moved stiffly after his sleep. Not a very energetic guy.
The swim was refreshing. She was finding a definite warmer layer on top closer into shore where Jeanie was tempted to stay. Dipping each arm into that cooler water said volumes about the more southerly latitude she was now in. But unquestionably invigorating. Even Fred swam along the beach with her before flopping onto the warm sand while she did another length of the beach. As she waded back to the sand, she could see him, stretched out on his back. Tall, underweight for his height; she could count his ribs. And pale. One arm was flung over his eyes to protect them from the brightness. She noticed his long fingers. She could see his mouth. Nicely shaped mouth. Wispy moustache he could do without. Dark hair but a reddish moustache. He peered out at her before turning over to toast his back.
‘Better not overdo the sun,’ she called over to him as she grabbed the towel.
‘My excuse is it’s late in the season. But I take your point, not too much more.’
Jeanie hesitated. ‘I should have checked before, Fred, but is it okay to stay one more night?’ She stood awkwardly.
‘Stay the week. That will give you a bit more stability. Auntie Muriel is charging us a peppercorn rental because it’s the end of summer. You won’t find anywhere cheaper. Just as long as you don’t mind sharing the bathroom.’ Lying on his front, he was speaking into his towel.
‘Doesn’t bother me at all, and I’m grateful,’ Jeanie said. ‘Yes, a week here would be heaven. Then onto starting my new life.’ She spread out her towel beside his.
‘Come on, Jeanie. You have started your new life. This is life, you know.’
She thought about it. And the thought delighted her. ‘Well, if this is my new life, I like it fine.’
He grunted. ‘Thought so.’
Jeanie sat up and looked out over the sea. A particularly deep blue in the late afternoon light. Not much wind and very little swell. Unlike Queensland where there always seemed to be a breeze. And always surf pounding in from the open sea. She shut her eyes and enjoyed the feel of the warmth on her sea-cooled skin, an ephemeral whiff of flowers from somewhere close and the sounds of distant children. It was hard to believe she was actually here. She opened her eyes to orient herself. A freighter piled high with containers came into view. Heading down to Auckland’s harbour. And she could count seven sails, yachts. Auckland, City of Sails. She breathed in the air. She could smell the sea, something about the sand and hot tarmac from the parking area near the beach. Every time she had thought to smell the air, it was different. A bubble of excitement formed in the pit of her stomach. Yes, this was a good decision. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mindi.